


It's not complicated, if it's love don't hate it

by JuliaBaggins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Dean Winchester is Jack Kline's Parent, Dean deserves a soft epilogue and he's getting it, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forgiveness, Heaven, Homophobia, Homophobic John Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, John isn't in heaven but instead in hell under queen Rowena just because I say so, M/M, The story of Dean's 17th birthday from John's journal, Trigger Warning: John Winchester is mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28755102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliaBaggins/pseuds/JuliaBaggins
Summary: Dean is in heaven, with Cas, and things are wonderful.But then, he gets reminded of a day he wished he could just forget. His 17th birthday.[Written as a reaction to the entry from John's journal, about how he forced Dean to hunt down the ghosts of a lesbian couple for his birthday]
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, The two nuns from Dean's 17th birthday
Comments: 24
Kudos: 162





	It's not complicated, if it's love don't hate it

**Author's Note:**

> I wouldn't have thought that I could hate J*hn Winchester even more than I did, but then I read a few things from the journal, and, well, here we are. Wrote that whole story in one angry go and now am wishing J*hn a pleasant time rotting in hell.

It was raining. Softly, steadily, and Dean smiled. At first, he had thought that this wouldn’t be possible here, that heaven would be an eternity of nothing but bright sunshine, never a cloud in sight. But when he once had mentioned this towards Cas, on another sunny day a while after he had gotten here, Cas shook his head with a smile. He asked Dean if he’d like it if there was other weather, and Dean shrugged, not sure about that. The sun was nice, sure it was, especially when one could actually feel it on one’s skin, not through the windows of his car or as a faint thing hidden somewhere behind bunker walls. But nevertheless, Dean liked the thought of some variety, and Cas seemed to get what he meant. 

The angel smiled, softly, but didn’t say a word, just rested his hand on top of Dean’s. Dean squeezed it, gently ran his thumb over Cas’ skin, and his heart beat as fast as if it wanted to jump out of his chest. They had started doing this, some time after reuniting in heaven; after Dean finally had found Cas and shouted at him and cried into his trenchcoat and then oh so softly took his face into his hands to kiss him. And he couldn’t say it, not yet, but Cas’ brilliantly bright smile told him that the angel, _his_ angel, did understand. So, they took it slow. Slower than Dean ever had gone about such a thing (though, if he was honest with himself, no former relationship ever could compare to what he shared with Cas), and it was wonderful. Every time Cas took his hand, Dean got this warm feeling of _home safe perfect_ in his stomach, he’d blush when Cas leaned over to place the hint of a kiss on his cheek, and his arm around Cas’ shoulders felt just _right_. As if it belonged there. And somewhere, deep in his heart, Dean knew that it did.

“What are you thinking of?”, Cas voice interrupted Dean’s thoughts, but he shook his head.

“Nothing”, and Dean could see that Cas didn’t believe him.

Cas’ hand was warm in his, and Dean had an idea. An idea that he realized that he could follow, just like that. Here, in heaven, with Cas, being together, being safe. So, after a second to brace himself, he raised their joined hands, and kissed the back of Cas’. The angel’s intake of breath was sharp, and his blue eyes shone brightly. Dean never had been to the sea, never jumped into the waves in Hawaii or admired the endless blue off the coast of Greece, but here, getting lost in Cas’ eyes, he knew that their beauty was unparalleled, in heaven as well as on earth. And he knew that if he’d drown in them for each day in eternity, he’d do so with a smile.

Castiel raised his fingers, softly tracing the freckles on Dean’s cheek, and when Dean cast his eyes away from Cas’, a minute later or a century, he noticed that it had started to snow. 

“Wow”, he whispered, his eyes taking in the surroundings of the little house he had found one day wandering through heaven, the one that was so perfectly _theirs_ \- not big or particularly fancy, but with big windows, letting in the sunlight, a single garage, and surrounded by soft hills, covered in flowers that seemed to attract every bee in heaven.

Dean loved it, loved their home, and now, when it quickly was turning into what looked like the cover of a cheesy Christmas romance novel, he loved it even more. The tall trees in the distance got adorned with fluffy white hats, the little lake down the hill already had frozen over, and their front porch sparkled as if it was covered in diamonds.

“Thank you”, and with that, Dean placed a quick kiss on Cas’ lips, just because he could.

“You’re most welcome, Dean”, Cas answered, his eyes still fixed on Dean’s lips. 

“It’s amazing. But”, Cas raised an eyebrow, and Dean chuckled softly at the familiar expression, “Why isn’t it colder?”

“Would you like it to be colder?”, the angel asked, and Dean was unsure if he ever had seen something as.. as _cute_ as his face when he was confused. Yes, cute was the right word, and at least in his head, Dean allowed it to himself.

“I would, yeah.”

“But, why?”

Instead of answering that, Dean slung both of his arms around Cas, holding him tight to his chest, before he started softly rubbing his hands up and down Cas’ back. And Dean caught the exact moment in which Cas understood, for there was a soft laugh, and the temperature seemed to drop by at least 20 degrees in a heartbeat. Before Dean could regret his request though, a blanket appeared around both of them, as well as two steaming mugs on the ground next to their bench, and despite their delicious smell, Dean decided that they could wait for a little longer. For now, everything he wanted was to snuggle his angel closer, and that he did. Their breath painting puffy clouds into the freezing winter air, and Dean’s heart beating in nothing but peace.

Ever since that day, the weather had changed every week or so (getting a feeling of time still was difficult here), and Dean found it exciting. Just a few days ago, Jack had visited them, the three of them curling up in front of the fireplace while the fog outside was so thick that one couldn’t even see as far as to the lake from their living room window, then there had been a warm summer day, when Dean went swimming with Charlie and later taught Cas how to make the best ice-cold milkshakes, and today, it was raining.

Dean was taking a walk, not finding it strange anymore that the rain was softly falling on his face, but not soaking his jacket – these things tended to happen only when he wanted them, and right now, he could do without the cold seeping through to his skin. He wasn’t sure where he was, but that didn’t matter, as he had found out shortly after arriving here. There were no directions in heaven, but there also weren’t walls anymore, and whenever he found himself really wanting to be somewhere, his feet would take him there, or the road would lead him to just that place. And when he didn’t have a place in mind where he wanted to be, as he did right now, he nevertheless always ended up somewhere he liked it. Sometimes that would be a beautiful place, sometimes the house of an old friend, sometimes a meeting with someone he hadn’t expected. What he had noticed though was that some places were closer than others – if he wanted to visit Charlie, or surprise Bobby, he only needed to walk a few minutes, no matter the direction. Whereas when he ended up meeting someone he hadn’t seen around heaven before, it tended to be after longer walks, hours of driving. He supposed it had something to do with the people he held close to his heart also being close by, and he loved it. 

In the distance, Dean could see snow-covered mountain tops that he couldn’t remember ever seeing before, but while they were beautiful to watch, he felt something like a gentle pull, an instinct that told him to not go towards the mountains but to take a road to his right instead. He did so, remembering how the last time he had been this far away from home, he had met a man who turned out to have been a former classmate, from one of the few times Dean had visited a school. The boy, Chris, had taught Dean the basics of how to play chess, and he, now going by Christopher, lived in a cabin close to the sea, a bright smile on his face once he recognized Dean. Christopher had told Dean about the car accident that caused him to end up here, but more so about his two daughters, his wife, how much he loved them, how proud he was of them. How he sometimes caught a glimpse of what they were doing on earth in the waves, or a hint of his wife’s eyes in the sky. At which Dean had just smiled knowingly. 

Jack never had explained how it was working, but whenever Dean could see Sam’s smile in the corner of a mirror, heard Eileen’s laugh at one of his brother’s bad jokes in the wind, he knew that it was his son’s doing. And it was wonderful.

Meeting Christopher had been a nice surprise, and when Dean walked on the unfamiliar path in the rain, he wondered what heaven might have in stock for him today. He rounded a few trees and then ended up on the edge of a deep yellow corn field, illuminated by a bright autumn sun. Dean walked further, and when he stepped onto the field, he spotted a rainbow in the distance. With a smile on his face, he continued his way, and finally, he saw two human shapes in the field, sitting down, maybe for a picnic. He walked towards them, curious to see meet another old friend again, but as soon as the first person, a young woman he now saw, raised her head, spotted him, her eyes widened, and very much not in joy. The woman pulled her companion, a tall lady with short dark hair, to her feet, and both of them stared at Dean.

And there was something in the back of Dean’s head. A nagging feeling, the conviction that he should recognize them. But he didn’t. He just looked at the two women, shocked at the expression they were watching him with. Caution, distrust, and, somewhere underneath that, _fear_. The taller one took a step forward, thereby placing herself between Dean and the other woman. And suddenly he knew.

An invisible force seemed to have punched Dean in the stomach, all the air leaving his lungs, and he felt tears well up in his eyes. He remembered them. Remembered their faces. Remembered a faded black and white photo that his father had handed him – one that was a bit blurry, but, more importantly, so very _happy_. Two women, arm in arm, the shorter one of them resting her head on the taller one’s shoulder, their laughter about a joke long forgotten captured forever on a square of paper. Dean hadn’t understood, hadn’t dared to hope, but with how they looked, and their happiness, and his father earlier that day having mentioned something about a surprise… And then John had explained. Who they had been, his voice as cold as when he talked about the worst of monsters. What they had become, an uncaring shrug. What he expected Dean to do, a glimmer in his eyes, as if he just _waited_ for his son to disobey him. But Dean hadn’t. 

He had driven to the church John had sent him to; the bracelet Sammy had given him early in the morning, before their father had been awake, safely hidden inside of his jacket. Had overheard a conversation between two of the nuns currently living in the convent, about how terrible the priest dying under mysterious circumstances had been as a person. Had searched for their grave, dug up bones from the dirty ground behind the kitchen, not even a gravestone anywhere close. His hands had started bleeding, and he hadn’t cared, rather the opposite – had welcomed the pain, focused on it, because it was easier to focus on his burning skin than the confusion, the lingering fear in his mind, the pain in his heart. He had caught a quick glimpse at them, right before setting their bones on fire, and he wondered that if he had been braver, he might have said something. But he didn’t, just flipped the lighter, and the two women had gone up in flames, their screams bursting through Dean’s soul. He hadn’t cried, because he never did, never allowed himself to; but when he dug up a little hole underneath an apple tree, cursing at the frozen ground, and carefully put the picture his father had given him inside, touching it as if it might shatter every moment, he had felt a sob inside his throat.

Dean never had talked about this day, though he had sometimes wondered if Sammy knew, or at least suspected. And he had done his very best to forget, to drown out that day and everything it meant to him in as much booze and the arms of as many beautiful women as he could find. But now, on a plain field in the middle of heaven, it all came back to him.

Dean didn’t really notice his knees giving in, only belatedly realized that he had fallen towards the ground, and the tears in his eyes clouded his vision too much to be able to see the confused glance the two women exchanged.

“I’m sorry”, Dean whispered, and he knew that it wasn’t enough, but all other words seemed to have left him.

The taller woman took another step forward, finally crouched down in front of Dean, and he found that he couldn’t meet her eyes, couldn’t bear to look at her.

“I didn’t want this, I didn’t-“, and his voice broke on another sob before he could explain more.

But when the woman extended her hand, lightly placing it on Dean’s shoulder, he knew that she understood. Maybe it was another magical aspect of heaven, that sometimes, when you really wanted someone to know something, they just _did_. Or maybe she could see is in his eyes, his tears, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that when her fingers lightly brushed the tears off his cheek, Dean could feel her forgiveness.

The other woman joined them, and suddenly, Dean found himself talking. Spluttering apologies, vomiting words about his father that he never had dared to say out loud before, and in their eyes, he saw that they could understand. And he hated that they did, could relate to the deep scars in his soul that never had quite managed to heal, but at the same time, it felt good, felt _liberating_. 

It felt as if he talked forever, when the soft sound of wings fluttering interrupted his words, and Cas appeared a few meters away.

“Dean?”, he asked, so very careful, and three pairs of eyes focused on the angel.

“Cas”, not quite a sob but close to it, and Cas was next to him before Dean knew it.

“I could feel that you’re in distress, and I-“

Dean shut him up quite effectively by grabbing his face, pulling Cas into a messy kiss, and then hugging him as if he’d never want to let go. And maybe he didn’t.

In his love’s arms, Dean slowly found himself calming down, and, later, they sat down on the ground, opposite the two women. Dean told Cas what had happened, the angel’s fingers holding his tightly; he felt the barely constrained rage rolling off Cas like static at every mention of John, and he loved him even more for it.

After Dean had ended his story, Cas’ wrapped a protective arm around his shoulders, and his voice was steel when he spoke.

“I’ll have a talk about this with Rowena.”

Dean nodded, but didn’t answer, because there was nothing to say to that. He didn’t often think about his father’s soul in hell, because he preferred to not think of him at all, and sometimes, he still found himself having troubles to admit that between all the monsters he had hunted, John Winchester had turned into one himself. But here, with Cas’ warm body pressed close, and then two women smiling softly at him, Dean knew. Knew that the thing he was most grateful for towards his father was that he wasn’t here. Knew that he was safe, here, in heaven, in this beautiful place that his angel had created together with their son. Knew that while he wasn’t perfect, he hadn’t deserved what John had done to him, and that hopefully, he had turned out a better man than John had been. A better father.

Cas leaned over to kiss Dean, and in his mind, he heard Cas’ voice.

_Not only hopefully. Your father is where he belongs. And so are you._

Dean let himself get lost in their kiss, the rain gently washing away the tears from his cheeks, and above them, the whole sky was lit by the bright rainbow.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this story, please be so kind to leave me a comment, it would mean a lot to me! ❤️
> 
> Title from the song "Love Don't Hate It" by Duncan Laurence 🎵


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